


smoke and mirrors (hide our destiny)

by sunsetluna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ... kind of, ... kind of?, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dark, Gen, How Do I Tag, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, One Shot, Powerful Voldemort (Harry Potter), Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29162088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetluna/pseuds/sunsetluna
Summary: A lone figure paced through the twisting hallways, the only living being in the building. Their footsteps echoed down the surrounding corridors, loud with the determination of their strides.Or, a one shot in which Voldemort listens to the prophecy.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	smoke and mirrors (hide our destiny)

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of this scene would not leave me alone so, well, here it is I guess *gestures helplessly*
> 
> ((and for the necessary disclaimer, I don’t own anything you recognise))

A resounding crack echoed through the vacant halls. The surprising gentle thud of footsteps on marble tile, loud in such oppressive silence, was the only sound to follow.

This, however, was of no issue to the figure - for surely that was the only way to describe them, as other-worldly as they appeared in the near darkness. A force emanated from their very being, darkness bearing down upon the comparatively weak flickering of the wall sconces, as though even the dimmest light was the most grievous offence. They strode down each winding path with confidence imbued into their very aura, pervading the already threatening atmosphere with a suffocating power, almost tangible in its density.

Their strides never faltered, even as the corridor opened out into a large atrium, seeming to know exactly where they were going. They didn’t even glance at the imposing golden statue they passed, so intent on their destination that all else was irrelevant. With nothing more than a flick of their hand, the rusty grate slid open to reveal an empty lift.

Upon entering, the gates slid shut and the descent began.

The deafening silence, heightened by the being’s presence, was broken only by the mechanical whirring as it lowered, floor by floor. Such an atmosphere would have unnerved another person, yet the figure did not pace; they did not shuffle nor fidget restlessly. They merely stood there, completely at ease in the tense surroundings.

After all, a monster has no need to fear darkness.

The lift clunked and juddered as it stopped. A female voice, jarring in the instant quiet, announced, “the Department of Mysteries.”

The being continued out the lift as though they had never stopped, gliding through haunting corridors that were even darker than the lift itself. They were at one with the blackness, blending in as seamlessly as they would under a disillusionment charm. The distinctive sound of footsteps on tiles was the only indication there was anyone there at all.

Then, the figure paused.

A bone white wand appeared in their hand as their attention focussed solely on one blank stretch of wall. It had no visible difference from the rest of the twisting corridors, yet the intent with which the figure stared at it indicated it was anything but ordinary.

They raised their arm without uttering a sound, and the pressure in the air increased tenfold, stifling in its intensity. A deep buzzing vibration started deep within the bricks, the wards acting in defence against the malevolent force. The buzzing mounted, the energy became almost palpable, and the air began to shimmer with the abundance of magic overpowering them. Suddenly, the magic became tangible in the air; the figure gently pushed it apart and slipped through the gap.

The sudden loss of energy after such an exertion caused the wards to snap back into place, completely unremarkable once more. 

Through the hidden entrance, the figure stood, observing the many closed doorways leading from the strange, circular room. Closing their eyes, magic shifted as they pictured the invisible thread that pulled them, gently yet insistently, towards the one true threat they’d ever faced.

And so, they moved.

Once the room stopped spinning, they proceeded through a strange variety of rooms. Some were dedicated to research of time, love, and even the planets, yet they had no time to investigate. They didn’t even glance at the research, as focussed as they were on their true goal. Each step brought them closer and closer to their destiny until finally- the room of Prophecies.

Following the mental pull, they glided down the aisles, passings shelves upon towering shelves of glass orbs, each holding the fate of another in its glow. As they grew closer the pull became stronger, tugging at their mind until- they stopped.

There, sat directly in front of them, was the prophecy. The lightly glowing orb seemed almost harmless, innocent among the thousands of glass balls; so easy to shatter and delicate in appearance, and yet so significant with the threat it posed. They stood there, observing, contemplating the incomparable importance of such a small thing for just a moment.

They reached out a steady hand and lifted it from the shelf. The instant their hand made contact, the swirling fog inside distorted and shifted, forming shapes within the previously indistinguishable smoke. It was altogether much heavier than they expected, whether due to its physical mass or significant magical presence they couldn’t tell, instead focusing on the picture twisting within.

Slowly, they once again revealed the bone white wand, lightly tapping the surface of the ball. It shimmered and shifted, taking the form of Sybil Trelawney who opened her mouth, and (with a guttural voice which didn’t match her appearance at all) spoke:

“ _ The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die and the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies _ _..._ ”

Upon hearing those words the figure grew contemplative once more, but they knew they had no time to linger. With shockingly gentle movements they slowly lowered the orb back onto the shelf, placing it in its rightful place once more. 

They turned and left, paying as little attention to the rooms they strode through as they had done when entering. Seemingly no time had passed before they reached the circular room once more.

Raising their wand for the third time that night, a ghostly presence glowed into place, showing the path they had taken less than half an hour ago- and had so little time really passed? So much had changed it was unfathomable. They passed through the doorway they now knew to be the exit and allowed the spell to dissipate, alone and in the pitch black corridors again.

They walked back to the lifts, footsteps echoing once more. Their collected demeanour would have expertly hid their inner turmoil, if not for the pulsing energy in the air which now crackled wildly. It was unlike the steady force from before in every way, apart from the overwhelming darkness of its presence.

The gates slid open with their approach and they entered the lift. It rose with just the click of a button, slowly at first but soon gaining momentum. The mechanical groaning was almost soothing in the silence, giving the figure some reprieve from their whirlwind of thoughts. Up and up they went, gradually slowing until with a clang, the gate slid open once more.

“The Atrium,” said the same female voice, and out into the atrium the figure moved. They were still oblivious to the grandiose statue- their own imposing nature easily overwhelming it. Further and further they went, the walls becoming narrow in the winding labyrinth. Finally, they paused, seemingly content with the unassuming location.

And with a crack, Lord Voldemort was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Despite having read fanfiction for years, this is the first time I’ve attempted to write any myself, so constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated if you’re willing to give any!!
> 
> I’ve always wondered why Voldemort never viewed the prophecy himself in canon, because surely if loads of death eaters, school children, and order members could all infiltrate the ministry at night then Voldemort would have been able to as well..? I guess we’ll never know. 
> 
> So far I’m only uploading this as a one shot, but if inspiration strikes that could always change, so if you do want to see it continue then ideas for future chapters would be really useful!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading :))


End file.
